


dead end

by egoblow



Series: in another world [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha Jesse McCree, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega Hanzo Shimada, Omega Verse, Sex, Talon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 17:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15690156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egoblow/pseuds/egoblow
Summary: Trapped in a room on a Talon base with no hope of escape, Hanzo asks McCree to bond to help himself survive.





	dead end

**Author's Note:**

> I originally started this because I wanted to write something with the fuck or die trope + take a stab at A/B/O, but instead I went whole hog on the angst. Oops?
> 
> Tagging this with mildly dubious consent as the sex happens due to poor circumstances. No character death, but implied tag is used as the possibility is referenced. Implied tags also used for abuse/rape as they are referenced.

A tiny pink oval, fragmented into three pieces, is all that remains. The equivalent of seven more days before the suppressant gives way to a flurry of hormones. Seven more days until he, Hanzo Shimada, is effectively compromised by his body's misguided desire to mate. Generations upon generations of human innovation, and yet all he has is a broken little pill to stave off primal instincts.

It isn't enough, but he still swallows down the remaining crumbs of the suppressant. The pill leaves a bitter tang on his tongue, reminding him of the inevitable doom that will approach. Perhaps not today, but surely once the temporary effects of the pill fade.

A soft, spicy scent wafts toward him in a gesture of comfort. It's cinnamon, as far as Hanzo can tell, with an underlying musk common for an alpha. It's lovely though he tries not to linger on the scents of others.

"Had the piece of mind to pack me some of that nice Yamazaki," A metal flask comes into view, momentarily interrupting his vision of horror.

Hanzo looks up at the hand offering it. A metal flask in a metal hand. In the gloomiest of moments, he allows himself the tiniest of pleasures by accepting it. Gone are the thoughts of cleanliness and germs, of pettiness and scolding Jesse McCree for stealing his expensive Suntory whiskey. What remains is relief as he gulps down a mouthful, and allows it to burn into his empty stomach.

"Thank you," Hanzo murmurs as he offers the flask back to Jesse.

"Cheers," Jesse mimicks the motion, wincing as the hard liquor blazes down his throat. "Might as well celebrate a good life, right?"

Hanzo responds with silence as his gaze turns to the pile of rubble that mocks him. Three walls of reinforced steel and an entrance now marked by broken rocks and metal. Fifty feet below ground in the heart of a Talon base with comms that hiss uselessly on the ground.

"We're fucked," Jesse puts eloquently, seated and leaned up against the wall.

"I do not need to be reminded," He knows, as much as he would like to think otherwise, that carving out an exit from the rubble would take hours between himself and the cowboy. Hours that they don't have, not when they are squirreled away deep inside of the Talon stronghold.

A trap from the moment they had entered. Talon had shepherded them deeper and deeper into their base until a small explosion (by Jesse's precise aim) had given them a moment of reprieve. Still, their fates had been sealed from the moment they had entered.

"Have the rest," Jesse offers the flask back.

Gratitude sparks through him in a way that he would never announce. He accepts the remaining whiskey and throws it back until the flask clutters uselessly to the floor. The drink warms his limbs and numbs his mind.

"Was really hopin' we'd get the scoop on Reaper," Jesse murmurs. His long legs are stretched out and his serape pulled around his shoulders. He looks every bit of comfort in their desolate hole. Easy for an alpha when execution, pure and simple, awaits him as soon as the rubble is cleared away.

"As you should. It was our objective," Hanzo grunts in response. He crosses his arms over his chest, trying to warm himself in the chill of their fate.

"Yeah, but you don't know. Reaper-- He used to be the kinda man that you could look up to," Hanzo closes his eyes as Jesse drawls on. They each have their sources of comforts in the face of certain doom, and the alpha chooses talking. "Had a way of scaring the shit outta anyone, orderin' 'em around, and gettin' his way. No one would have ever thought him an omega."

Hanzo looks up at that, brow raised in question. The suppressant he takes is a careful cocktail of hormones designed to cancel out everything omega about him. It hides his scent and overrides all the hormones telling him to nest and to breed. He smells like nothing, like beta. Neutral. Safe.

Nothing can erase the deep seed of shame planted by the Elders. Nothing can scrub away the memories of watching the Elders waltz around with their forced Omega brides, bonded against their will and fated to torment. Nothing can eradicate the hissed threats of being sold off, of forever being tied to one of the Elders to keep him under their collective heel.

His imagination spares him no mercy as he thinks to what Talon will do with him once they dig through the rubble. Death, surely guaranteed for an alpha or a beta caught by Talon, would be an easy mercy. But an omega? Hanzo had witnessed firsthand the value of an omega in the black markets. Talon would not gift death to an omega, not without using his body beyond the breaking point of the mind. Not without bonding him to one of their alphas and twisting his instincts against his thoughts.

Fear wraps around him like a noose. Fear of a fate worse than death. His thoughts fade under a torrent of white noise.

His vision shrinks into blackness while his lungs suddenly labor for breath. He reaches out blindly, needing to ground himself under the weight of his mind. Hanzo's fingers wrap around the coarse fabric of the serape and he pulls. Vanilla smoke and cinnamon spice envelops him as he wraps himself in the serape.

"Easy there, ya with me?" The weight of a metal hand settles on his back.

Hanzo closes his eyes, still trapped in the throes of a screaming mind. He breathes in the scent weaved into the thick fabric in an attempt to soothe himself. The cinnamon spice comes from McCree, he decides, the vanilla smoke an addition from the cigarillos that perpetually hang from his lips. It's not bad, not as awful or crude as he once imagined the cowboy to be.

"Cold?" McCree asks, watching him while rubbing small circles into his back.

It's embarrassing to have the alpha dote on him like this. In the face of certain doom and Hanzo cannot even meet it with dignity.

"I'm fine," Hanzo grits out though his eyes remain unfocused. He focuses on the hand that continues to rub his back, on the thick scent of McCree from the serape, and the soft honeyed words from the alpha.

"Breathe through it with me," Jesse murmurs. He takes a seat next to Hanzo, hand still rubbing the tension from Hanzo's stance.

Hanzo looks up into honey eyes and notes the crease of concern knitting his brows together. They both wait here for their doom and Jesse McCree has the audacity to be concerned for him instead of seeking his own pity. A weaker man would be drowning alone in the whiskey, weighted by the prospect of inevitable death.

Omegas get taken, alphas get a bullet through their skulls.

Though he has never felt the pull of a bond, he can still fear it. The screams of his men torturing one half of a bonded pair still echo in his ears. He can still see the way the other half had clawed at herself, maddened by the sight of her other half's broken corpse. It frightens him, the thought of exposing himself in such a way, in creating that bond and giving half of himself over.

...And he knows, not if, but when Talon captures them that the bonding bite would be forced upon him.

The decision is obvious.

"Bond with me," Hanzo's voice cuts through the silence that had fallen in the room. The hand on his back stills and pulls away slowly.

"What are you sayin'?" Jesse pushes up the brim of his hat to get a better look at Hanzo. The demand pulls at that deep, twisted root of shame inside him, but he meets the other man's gaze without waver.

Hanzo, omega, refuses to back down from his resolution.

"Bond with me," Hanzo repeats, turning his body to face Jesse fully. He licks his chapped lips before adding on, "Please. I do not ask this lightly."

"Sure as hell hopin' you ain't," Jesse rubs his face almost as if it would shake him from some daytime slumber. "You sayin'...?" He trails off while waving a hand in the air, unsure of how to complete the thought without offense.

"I am," He confirms, stomach twisting violently at the conversation. He grips the fabric of his pants and resolves himself to forge on. "Unbonded. Omega."

Jesse lets out a rush of air as if physically releasing some form of tension. He breaks the eye contact in order to blink at a nearby wall, needing to focus his thoughts. Eventually, he mumbles, "Always took you for a beta."

"I labored to make it seem so," Each additional admission comes with more ease, and an odd sense of relief at making it known. Jesse McCree, to his credit, takes the news without mockery. "Only a fool believes that the ones to pull us out from here will be Overwatch. I am preparing for what is inevitable when they come for us."

"Unbonded omega," Jesse notes again. He rubs his face, the easy lull of a man who thought death a certainty (for them both, it seems) gone now under the changed circumstances. "Ain't gonna be a happy ending."

"I know," Hanzo grabs Jesse's hand and grips it tightly. "Please. I wish to survive this ordeal, and I must ensure that I safeguard myself as best I can. "

He is a proud man, never one to beg. Here, with the threat of an existence worse than death looming above him, he implores. His face softens and he forces his scent to unfurl-- gentle like fresh linen with notes of chrysanthemum and sakura. It presents like an invitation, asking without words for the alpha before him to accept such a proposal.

Jesse's metal hand slides over their gripped hands. He squeezes lightly before nodding. "Whatever you need of me."

Cinnamon spice envelops him as acceptance of the proposal. He realizes, as the alpha's scent settles over him, that it's more complex than just cinnamon. It's smoky and spicy like cayenne, but mellowed out by something rich and sweet. Chocolate, Hanzo realizes as he leans forward. Notes of cocoa provide the foundation of McCree's scent.

"I'll be good, I promise," Jesse murmurs as he eases Hanzo onto his back.

"You don't need to embellish with such words," The omega replies with anxiety still knotting his stomach. "I am not some-- delicate thing to dote on."

"I know you ain't, Hanzo," Jesse squeezes Hanzo's hand gently. "But the least I can do is make sure you remember this as a good time, circumstances be damned."

The Shimada feels himself smirk at the words. Inwardly, his dragons rumble with approval. Jesse McCree, born a bastard and a man with nothing to his name besides a $60 million bounty, pushes on with a noble fervor. Faced with certain death and guaranteed imprisonment for Hanzo, Jesse McCree has the nerve to smile like the world isn't ending.

He wonders if, in another world, he courts the alpha before him slow and proper. If, in another world, they dance around each other for months at a time until he's built a proper nest and Jesse proves himself as a respectable alpha.

He wonders if, in another world, circumstances would not dictate if or when he confesses his truest shame.

They have no such luxuries now, not with their world shrunk down to the grimy room they're in.

"Mind if I kiss ya?" There's hope in his eyes and Hanzo cannot bring himself to say no.

Their lips meet slow and gentle. Hanzo tastes Yamazaki whiskey and smoke, and ventures further to nibble on the alpha's plump lower lip. The brush of beard against his skin elicits a thrill through his body that he wishes he could appreciate in better circumstances.

"Our time is limited," Hanzo murmurs, and regrets it immediately even though it is the truth.

"Honestly, been wishin' I could have ya like this for some time now," An intoxicating blend of spice, cocoa, and alpha musk wraps around him. Jesse sets aside his hat and demurely toys with the top button of his pants. "I know I ain't classy like you or a kinda gentleman you'd write home about--"

"But I would have let you court me," Hanzo interrupts. He's sitting up and reaching out to unzip the alpha's pants.

"No need to--" Jesse starts, but the omega has no patience for it.

"You are noble and kind, braver than many I have fought alongside with," His fingers slip past the fabric and ghosts over the alpha's length. "You're unrefined, but it is refreshing to talk with someone who cares not for appearances."

"Oh darlin'--" Jesse starts, breath stuttering.

"You are clever, more than you think you are," The omega marches on with his praise. He wraps his hand around Jesse's cock and starts a slow stroking pace. "Most notably, your aim is nearly as good as mine."

Jesse snorts, shaking his head. "Can't believe you're tryna compliment me by making it all about you."

Hanzo quirks his lips. "I cannot allow you to grow cocky."

The alpha slides closer as best he can with Hanzo's hand around his length. A rough, calloused hand slide over exposed skin before traveling lower and lower until he can squeeze the meat of Hanzo's inner thigh. The other hand tugs at the fabric of the hakama until they've become a tangle of limbs and fabric.

"C'mon, I got you," Jesse murmurs, guiding Hanzo's hand away from his dick. He gets up to kick his pants off and balls them up. They get placed precisely on top of Jesse's serape before he's guiding Hanzo down to the ground. Jesse's pants pillow Hanzo's head away from the rough concrete. "Wish we had somewhere softer."

"We can re-do this day on a bed with silk sheets if by some miracle we escape this unscathed."

"That a deal? Do-over if you and I get out of this alive?"

Hanzo nods, the most he can offer. "Yes."

"Good." Jesse seems pleased with the response. He busies himself with stripping and exploring Hanzo's body. The contrast of the alpha's metal hand with rough, gun-calloused flesh is enough to awaken his body.

Hanzo feels a slight, reluctant trickle of slick at his package and shivers. His instincts wish that they were in some plush nest instead of cold concrete and stabbing pricks of broken glass. He wishes they had the time for him to purge himself of his suppressants and allow his body to act freely, uncontrolled by precisely measured hormones.

He wishes he could savor this moment.

But time is not on their side.

Jesse covers the omega's body with his own, propping himself up by resting his weight on his prosthetic. He gathers as much slick as he can on one finger before spreading it around the lips of Hanzo's passage. The fingers are slow, deliberate, almost afraid that rushing the process might make the body close up in fear.

"Easy, easy there," The alpha murmurs into Hanzo's ear.

Hanzo measures his breaths, willing his body to relax. His family had never been one for affection with the exception of their black sheep: Genji. He had been programmed from an early age to read touches on his body as a threat, as an assassin about to slit his throat. Combined with the shame of his puberty, and Hanzo never had experienced a touch so tender, so intimate.

"You're doin' real good, honeybee," Jesse encourages just as the first finger slips inside. He rubs, slow and gentle, trying to ease the tension around the ring of muscles down there.

Hanzo slips a hand down between them, first palming his own cock before encircling his hand around Jesse's growing arousal. The alpha groans, hot breaths puffing into Hanzo's ear, as they fall into a quiet shared pace of stroking, rubbing.

\-- Distantly, they hear the muted boom of an explosion. The reverberations jostle small bits and pieces of the rubble. They clatter around the pair of bodies on the floor.

Their world is shrinking.

"Please," Hanzo begs, meeting Jesse's eyes. If the cowboy sees fear in them, he has the good grace not to comment on it.

"I hear ya," Jesse grimaces, rushing in a second finger. Hanzo's body tenses around it, already growing anxious at their impending doom.

"I'm sorry," Jesse adds on, pushing in with a third though the muscles resist the quickened pace.

For once, Hanzo wishes he was in heat. Wishes he could just accommodate the rush and open his body up, but he can't. Not with Talon breathing down their proverbial necks.

"Do it-- I won't break."

The alpha enters him. The breach is slow, controlled, and Hanzo can see Jesse trembling with the exertion of measuring his movements. It hurts even with slick easing his passage. The pain isn't lost on Jesse, who tries to distract with small, nibbling kisses.

"You're doing so good, Hanzo, so good," Jesse murmurs between kisses, honeyed words offering Hanzo something to focus on. "I'll be quick, I promise."

The alpha starts with shallow thrusts until the tension in Hanzo's expression eases. Jesse wraps a slick-wet hand around Hanzo's cock and pumps in time with his thrusts.

It's clumsy and not nearly the addictive act that Hanzo expects based on the way his brother once raved about it, but it still feels good. Jesse lights up his body, sets nerves abuzz in a way that distracts from what their futures hold.

Death for one and indescribable pain for the other.

Jesse grows sloppier, thrusts harder and faster. His lips travel over Hanzo's neck, kissing and licking, smelling the sweet combination of flowers and linen. Hanzo, for once giving into instinct, tilts his head to one side.

Hanzo bares his unblemished throat for him, for Jesse McCree, and he feels no fear. He feels in the basest of his instincts that this man who smells of cinnamon and chocolate would do right by him. That, given the chance, there could have been some sort of happiness in there.

Jesse bites down and Hanzo's vision explodes in a flashbang of stars. He spasms around the alpha's length, eased only as the thick knot pushes into his passage and ties them together. His mind goes blank as every nerve in his body overwhelms what he can feasibly process.

\-- When Hanzo comes back to his senses, he can hear Jesse mumbling feverishly into his neck.

 _"Bite me, bite me,_ " The words come out in a desperate croon from the alpha-- _his alpha_.

He needs no further encouragement before seeking out that patch of skin where spice and cocoa dance the strongest. With their bodies still locked together, Hanzo bites down and seals their bond.

They both drift in the euphoria of a new bond, blood dripping down their necks. They nuzzle each other in mirrored movements and mingle their respective scents with each other. Spice meets soft linen while the florals of Hanzo's scent sing with the earthiness of McCree's cocoa.

Jesse moves their locked bodies to rest on their sides. His thick arms embrace Hanzo tightly, holding him there as he buries his face against Hanzo's neck. He keeps kissing the raw, freshly-bitten mark.

It hurts, but Hanzo can't bring himself to stop the other man.

Briefly, he wonders if it had been a mistake to have bonded. He knows their time together is limited. Knows that Talon will rip them apart. Knows that fate won't be kind to them.

\-- Realizes that it is cruel to find something he wants when the world seems posed against them.

When their world keeps shrinking.

As distant shouting grows louder, as the rubble starts to tumble away, as Jesse slips his limbs into clothes and presses Stormbow into his hand...

Neck bleeding, and breathing in spiced chocolate, Hanzo realizes that he cannot allow their world to end here.

He will not allow it.

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, what happens next is that Talon does capture them and sends them on the angst-ridden journey of Talon Brainwashing™ vs. bonds. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Also, contrary to everything, McCree doesn't die. 
> 
> I am considering expanding this with additional one-shots or vignettes. Only because I love to drown my stress in angst. 
> 
> [say hi/send prompts on tumblr](https://egoblow.tumblr.com/)


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